


Changing Tides

by ThePumpkinSquee



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Free! Starting Days Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Free! Eternal Summer, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePumpkinSquee/pseuds/ThePumpkinSquee
Summary: Makoto was afraid that, in their time apart, he would miss the one second in which Haru will dive into his new life, leaving him alone on the starting block.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was really inspired by [this beautiful fanart](http://thegreylady.deviantart.com/art/Closer-477108779), and I wanted to know how the characters ended up where they were (probably NSFW, although nothing explicit)  
> 

There aren’t any cats in Tokyo. Even around his university, where people walked pampered little dogs and children played softball in the park and left oh-so-many potential snacks lying around, there aren’t any cats brushing against Makoto’s feet, hoping for a scratch behind the ears. People, however, were clamoring for his attention. Now that he lived in the dormitories, people are everywhere, all day long. Like a school of hungry fish, they all nibble away at his free time, demolishing an already crumbling shipwreck. A girl from his Child Psychology class helps him with statistics (three hours a week); an upstairs neighbor wanted to practice basketball with him (one more hour); he is meeting a study group for at least two hours each weekday, and sometimes they go to an izakaya after. Between that, his regular schoolwork, private English lessons and a part time job, his missing Haru felt like losing a limb.

They talk on the phone, of course, and text. They also make sure to see each other at least twice a week. Makoto usually comes to visit on Monday and Thursday, after Haru’s coach finishes the evening training session and leaves. By the time he arrives, Haru already relocates to the sports center’s warm-up pool, where he can float in peace. Makoto takes the 18:40 train to Haru’s university, greets his best friend and swims in the larger pool for an hour or so. Haru sometimes joins him, his nonchalant flowing freestyle contrasting with Makoto’s wild, forceful strokes. Then they shower and have dinner together. 

Makoto loves these hours: he likes to feel the water surround him once again, knowing that Haru is nearby, just like before; likes the small restaurants, full of appetizing scents and elderly cooks; he liked Haru’s cooking too, and talking to him, knowing that he listens (mostly); likes sharing his new friends with his oldest one, keeping him a part of his life. Sometimes Makoto takes an earlier train to watch Haru’s swimming practice, claiming to only have arrived after Coach has left. There were many beautiful sights in the world, Makoto thought, but none quite as elevating as Haru-chan’s swimming.

It was hard or, more correctly, frustrating, not to see Haru every day. At their meetings, Makoto would talk about his schoolwork, his classmates, his part-time job at the hospital. Haru was… well, he was Haru. He would tell Makoto when he broke his personal bests, or recount how Rin was doing in Australia, but it took three tournaments for Makoto to meet one of Haru’s teammates, and it pained him to see that Haru has not, in fact, unpacked any of his crates since he moved to Tokyo. He kept the bare minimum available, mostly textile and kitchenware, but all those things that Haru’s life consisted of were still packed away, neat piles of crates on the immaculate floor. Makoto was glad that Haru had to eat well and sleep a lot, due to his training regime, but he could not resist the slight urge to fuss over him. There was also, Makoto would admit to himself, upon returning to his room, a twinge of jealousy tugging at his stomach. What if, in all of his Makoto-free time, Haru would find someone else who understands him without the need for words? Someone who would bring the smile to his eyes, who would like his terrible mackerel desserts and be smart and artistic and athletic enough to swim professionally. Someone who could follow him to all the wonderful places he is bound to reach. Makoto was afraid that, in their time apart, he would miss the one second in which Haru will dive into his new life, leaving him alone on the starting block.

The thoughts were particularly bothersome this week. They kept coming up in Makoto’s head every time he could catch his breath. Like a news broadcast, they were waiting for when he finished his homework, idly boiled water for cup noodles or just before he dozed off. Tired and upset, he resolved not to let it spoil his time with Haru. It will be their last meeting before Haru leaves for eight days in Hong Kong and, it being his first international tournament, Makoto decided to make their outing as enjoyable as possible. He picked him up at the sports center, foregoing the swimming session for once, and they took a train to Akihabara.

"Ne, Haru…?” It was early evening, and the train was full of commuters returning from work. Haru was standing so close, Makoto could smell the light chlorine-and-mint scent of his hair.

“Hm?” came Haru’s response. He was wearing a light gray t-shirt, and the contemplative, calm expression he would get after visiting the pool. Makoto thought his heart might burst from affection, and he racked his brain for some topic of conversation before his reveries carry him away.

"Are you all packed up for Sunday?”

"Still haven’t decided what swimsuits to take.”

"But… Surely you will wear the team’s swimsuit for the competition?”

"For practices.”

Makoto appreciated the effort. A year ago, Haru would not have graced his bewilderment with an answer. The distance between them was hard, but it also made each meeting special. Makoto smiled at him.

"I am really proud of you for getting into that tournament. I’m glad other people will also get to see Haru-chan’s swimming.” 

Haru looked away, embarrassed but pleased, and mumbled something like “What are you talking about?”

They arrived at an Akihabara arcade, where Haru had won three golden-prize mascots and five games of car racing. Then, looking a little guilty for beating Makoto so thoroughly, offered to treat the other boy to dinner at a Thai restaurant. Makoto conceded, feeling somewhat guilty in turn, because it was not Haru’s fault he was so distracted. Well, technically it was, but it did not entitle him to a free dinner.

By the time they finished dinner (during which Haru dipped his fried mackerel in red curry sauce and proceeded to drink unholy amounts of water, repeatedly, making Makoto giggle while eating his own green, mild concoction), he has already exhausted every possible course of conversation. Nagisa was doing well on his exams, Haru’s parents visited him a few days ago and did not like the state of his apartment, the upcoming Olympic games will be amazing and they will definitely watch them together, Makoto’s English was taking a turn for the better, and tomorrow he is taking his tutor out for dinner to thank him for his help. 

"-So…” Makoto began after they sat in a pleasant silence for a few minutes, Haru staring into his plate, Makoto staring at him, fingers toying with one of the phone straps Haru scored. “Have you decided what to do with your phone yet?”

"It will be useless, I’ll just leave it off,” he answered curtly. The cell-phone issue was a point of contention. Haru agreed to take it, just for emergencies, in order to stop Makoto’s nagging. However, he stressed that it will serve as a useless piece of plastic, since he did not want to pay the roaming fee. Still, Makoto, wanted to be able to talk to Haru while he was away. He was hurt by the notion that it did not bother Haru in the slightest that this would be the longest time they won’t be able to talk, Australia included. He must have looked upset because Haru’s gaze softened. “I will call you when I find a computer” he said. Makoto’s face lit up and Haru drank the last of his tea. “I think it’s time to go home.”

***

Haruka did not intend to find a computer in Hong Kong, but Makoto did not need to know that. It was his first international competition, his first chance to keep his promise and move forward, so he can swim with Rin again. The tournament was for East Asian countries only, but if his times are good, there will be other international competitions. He could not face telling Makoto that ever since they moved, talking to him became a distraction. Hearing his voice made Haru want to leave whatever it is he was doing and show up at his apartment, ready to do nothing together. Living far from Makoto was so different, _lonely_ , yet he did not want to see those green eyes fill with worry. It is better, he figured, to be entirely alone for a while and focus on the tournament, than talk to Makoto every day and face the void of his absence. His best friend always attended Haru’s swimming events, but this one, his most momentous one yet, he could not afford to see. A part-time job as a hospital orderly payed for some of his rent and expenses, but he did not make nearly enough money for a plane ticket. Haru did not expect him to come, but he had doubts about performing without his very own good luck charm. He hoped that the prospect of facing Rin again will be enough of a motivator.

With plenty of time left until the trains stop running, Haru decided to walk Makoto back to his apartment. Their silent stroll from the station was all comfortable silences and cool evening breezes, familiar in this still-new city. Makoto felt his gaze and turned to look at him, a soft smile brightening his features.

"I know Haru will do his best in Hong Kong. I am so sorry I cannot come.”

"Don’t worry about it.” _I wish you could. I like having you beside me._

"I will talk to you before the flight on Sunday. I wanted to come over again, but I have to work.”

"I know.” _Another piece of your life without me._

"And you will be staying at our house when you come to Iwatobi?”

"Am-hmm.” _But I wish we went together, so I won’t miss three days of our time there._

Before he noticed, they arrived at the dorms. Haru was not quite ready to to return to his own apartment, but there was nothing much left to say. He felt awkward to invite himself in. “Bye, then,” he said, with one last longing look at Makoto’s door.

"Wait, Haru, would you like to come in?”

Makoto could always read his mind. It was very annoying, really.

***

It was Saturday evening. Haruka spent his day taking a leisurely bath ( _Makoto will not come to pull me out_ ), finishing his homework and polishing off the last of the fish in the fridge, since he will not be home any time soon. He later met his teammates for a final practice before the flight, after which they went for tonkatsu. 

"Say, Nanase,” said Sato Seijirou, an upperclassman who specialized in breaststroke and butterfly. “Why doesn’t your boyfriend go out with us more?” He was also an Olympic-level tactless bastard.

"What are you talking about?” Haru was giving him his trademark Death Glare, keeping his voice neutral, with a pinch of annoyance. 

"What’s his name..? Tatewaki… Tanemura…?”

"Tachibana-san” Nishimura piped in. She sounded excessively cheerful, in Haru’s opinion, but rather than redirecting the Death Glare at her, he felt compelled to look down. “Makoto has plans today. Also, he is not my boyfriend. I just know him since he was born.”

"That doesn’t make him not your boyfriend,” Sato intoned.

"Exactly! Young love, enduring for so long, so romantic! It’s my favorite trope! BL is the best!” Haru could practically see the little hearts blossoming in Nishimura’s delighted eyes. He not-quite rolled his own eyes, eating more cabbage. His teammates met Makoto during some of their previous competitions in Tokyo and Hiroshima, but he had no idea they christened him as Haru’s _boyfriend_. When later they professed to him how friendly and easygoing Makoto was, he just felt the urge to hide him. 

"I’m going home”, he said crossly, and went to the entrance to pay his bill, giving his teammates a final withering look. Being close to someone does not make them a couple. Their friendship was what is was, and Haru was content so far. Makoto Tachibana was a constant, unyielding force in the hurricane that was Haru’s life right now. Being near him reminded the aspiring swimmer that he has value, that people cared about him, that even though it was hard for him to make friends, that he was difficult, he must be doing _something_ right if this person loves him. His teammates teased him, cheered for him and helped him grow, but it was Makoto who made it all feel like it has a purpose.

Avoiding his gloomy dorm room for now, Haru decided to go for a run. It was quite late already, and he passed by packs of teenagers out for a night of fun. Pacing himself, he was losing the battle of clearing his mind. If he fails this competition, he might not get another chance. He must place in order to meet Rin again, and he _must_ meet Rin again. Disappointing Makoto and his teammates was another thing. He wanted his childhood friend to look at him with his usual pride and affection (and sometimes exasperation). He did not want him tiptoeing around his failures like he did, more than two years ago, around their futures. The last time that happened, it ended in a fight. Now that they were not forced to see each other every day, it might end in something worse.

With no destination in mind, he was surprised to find himself at Makoto’s university. The grounds were practically deserted, yet the street lamps were still on. He figured he could sleep on the plane tomorrow, so he did not particularly care about his bed time. With a touch of self-loathing at his own pathetic behavior, Haru jogged in the direction of Makoto’s dormitories. He did not intend to bother him, just… see that the lights are on and know that he is _there_.

Scaling the steps two at a time, he stopped when he heard someone else was in the corridor. Self-conscious about his impulsive behavior, Haru preferred to wait for the other person to leave. He was already at the dark end of the corridor leading to Makoto’s apartment, a narrow passage illuminated by the streetlights outside. The source of the noise was a couple, kissing against the wall further down from him. Haru did not wish to intrude, so he stayed in his corner, trying not to look. After a few minutes’ wait, he risked a glance to determine whether they were leaving. Quite oblivious to their surroundings, they were not going anywhere. The shorter of the two, slender and light haired, was cupping her partner’s face, standing on tiptoe. The taller one, with darker hair and broad shoulders, was pinned to the wall by shorter’s other arm. He held his own arms stiffly at his partner’s waist, his face hidden in the shadows. They kissed, slow and deep, and Haru decided to abandon his plan to not interrupt their intimacy. He was slowly backing away, when the shorter person moved to kiss the taller one’s neck and Haru saw two things: the light haired person was a blond boy, a little older than Haru himself. 

The tall one was Makoto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far. Sorry about not tagging the OMC, but I didn't want to spoil the plot. Don't worry, though, I'm a MakoHaru person through and through. I want to thank my very helpful beta Vicki and emphasize that all mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> It is my first fanfic in the Free! fandom (I was more of a Potterhead before), and I really enjoyed writing it. I love MakoHaru. 
> 
> This work is complete, and I will upload a new chapter (six overall) every Saturday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  He had already grown tall, already read books with no illustrations whatsoever, but holding Haru’s hand still made him feel like he swallowed the sun.  
> 

Haruka had just turned five, and his parents took him to the ocean for the first time. It was back when they still lived in Iwatobi, before his father had to transfer to the company’s main branch, before his grandmother came to live with them. Haru has been to the kiddie pool before, and was always reluctant to leave the tub, so his parents were worried that his love for water will put him in danger and decided to leave the seaside visits for when he was older. He remembered traveling to the beach, for what seemed like a great distance at the time; his first joyful dip, tasting the salt on his fingers and turning around to show his father. He recalled his mother, picking him up and venturing deeper into the ocean, both of them shaded by her enormous hat. She spread her hands under his back, so he could float, and he could recall how the water covered his ears. The roar of the sea, or (he knew now) his own blood, was mysterious and exciting, different from the water he met so far.

When they returned to the shore, his mother – putting him down on the warm sand – was smiling at two people Haruka did not know. He did recognize the short boy who was standing between them, a green pair of swimming goggles on his neck. They played together several times at kindergarten, he even visited his house, but there were other children there, too, and Haruka did not know his name.

"Do you remember the Tachibanas?” his mother asked, though he clearly did not. The adults laughed as Haru stared, somber and determined, at the green-eyed boy, mustering the courage to ask him to play with the inflatable dolphin they brought. Adults found his dour countenance endlessly amusing at the time. The boy, however, smiled, waved at him – the sky a blinding azure behind him – and asked if he wanted to play together, picking the dolphin up. He nodded, unsure what to say, and they promptly began digging for water on the shoreline and taking turns at riding the dolphin (although their parents would not let them take into the water). When the sun began to set, Haruka’s parents were calling for him, but he ignored them. Both children were sitting in a small pool, on which they labored for quite some time. 

"Haru-chan,” the boy said, “let’s be merpeople tomorrow at school, too.”

Haru nodded, exhilarated. “What is your name?” he remembered to ask.

The other boy looked surprised, and a little hurt, but then he smiled again, figuring not everyone remembered everything all the time.

"Makoto. Tachibana Makoto.” he said, and then Haru’s father drew near behind them, scooping his precocious son and wrapping him in a towel. Most distinctly, Haru remembered looking at Makoto from behind his father’s shoulder. The boy was waving his goodbye, an enormous smile on his face, the evening sea breeze tugging at his mass of brown hair and the waves behind him burning orange in the sunset.

 

***

 

Haru could not see where he was going, could not see anything except that unfamiliar expression on Makoto’s face, hearing the soft sigh that escaped his lips over and over. Terrified and ashamed, he backed away and bounded, cat-like, down the stairs. He was no longer pacing his running, but then again, it did not feel like he was running at all. His feet did not give out, did not hurt, they were mere instruments, carrying him as far as possible from where… where Makoto was changing without him. 

 

Outside the building, he ran squarely into someone, heard them cry out in surprise, but he just ignored it and kept on running.

 

Not sure what to do, he ran straight to his university’s sports center, but found it locked for the night. Club-goers, returning from their outing, turned to stare as he pulled at the entrance doors’ handles desperately, hoping for them to reveal the shimmering blue swimming pool inside. He could feel the tears clawing up his throat, angry and bitter. He could not face letting them overtake him just then and there. Ditching his initial plan, he blindly stumbled into his apartment, the door left unlocked. Dumping the rest of his clothes with his shoes at the genkan, Haru filled a bath with scalding hot water and climbed into it, without even rinsing himself. Once it was full, he submerged, leaving only a dark-haired island floating on the surface. He stayed under for as long as he could, the hot water making him feel lightheaded and raw, but also a little better. Resurfacing, he stared at his now-reddish knees, seeing nothing but that barely-lit corridor. He hugged his knees to his stomach and rested his forehead on them, trying and failing – again, always failing – to articulate what bothered him so much. After a while, he settled into a more sustainable position, leaning his head on the wall behind him, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Haru found himself in cold water. Late morning light was streaming through the window, and someone was knocking on his door.

 

"Oi! Nanase!” Haru recognized the voice of Shindo Rio, a teammate who lived two doors away. It took Haru a moment to remember why Rio was there, and yet another moment to remember why he woke up in his bathtub. Pruney and rattled, he climbed out of the tub and pulled on the first articles of clothing he could find. Bypassing crates and boxes, he opened his front door (which was still unlocked, although Shindo did not know that), staring at his teammate numbly.

“You have to get to the bus, the flight is in three hours! You are so late, Coach will kill you.”

Haruka nodded mechanically, fetching the travel bag he carefully packed the day before. As an afterthought, he shoved his uncharged, dead mobile phone into his pocket. He will not give up on this competition, he will not throw his future away, after working so hard to find it. He will just… let Shindo steer him towards the bus, indifferent to everyone and everything, and try not to think about how, surrounded by people he loved and appreciated, he felt more alone than ever. 

 

They were halfway to Hong Kong, coursing through a blanket of fluffy summer clouds, when Haruka realized, seethingly, that the shirt he was wearing belonged to Makoto.

 

***

 

Makoto was thirteen, and a three minute conversation during a swim club practice had just shattered his illusions. He always knew that things will have to change once he starts middle school:

_You are already so grown-up and responsible, Makoto, you shouldn’t leave the night-light on._

_I bet girls will be all over you soon._

_Makoto… maybe we shouldn’t hold hands outside anymore... people are acting weird…_

Makoto thought that, several months into the school year, he had already changed. He slept with the lights off, he ironed his own uniform, and he babysat the twins, even though his mother’s friends were all surprised by her trust in him. He was bound to grow out of his infatuation with Haru-chan any day now. He did not cling to him anymore, nor hugged him, because he could see Haru was uncomfortable. Makoto thought he had it all figured out. He was almost a grown-up, after all. 

 

And then his team’s manager saw straight through his ruse. Makoto loved swimming, of course, loved pushing himself as far as he could, the water cold on his shoulders. He loved being a part of the club, and hoped to be friends with these new people, to form a new team. But he also loved Haru. It was different from the love he had for his parents, different from his love for Rin and Nagisa, too. When he found a tabby cat with her litter in his yard, he wanted to share it with Haru. When he had an idea for a manga, he wanted Haru to be impressed. He loved making those blue eyes go round in wonderment. Whenever they stood next to each other, he had to resist the urge to take Haru’s hand in his. He had already grown tall, already read books with no illustrations whatsoever, but holding Haru’s hand still made him feel like he swallowed the sun.

He did not want to burden his friend with these feelings. They were a problem that needed to be solved. But being near Haru-chan made it all more confusing, because no matter how much he tried to hide it, everything was still _there_. He tried to force himself to focus on his swimming, to behave like the other boys in the club: independent boys, who were not obsessed. When Haru finished another lap in the pool, he did not offer a hand to pull him out. He brought the food his father made to Haru’s house, and was relieved when no one answered the door. If Nao-senpai could see what’s in his heart, it was too obvious. He was too old for this. He had to make it go away. 

But in his insistence to protect himself, he forgot to protect Haru. When he realized his best friend was not eating properly because of him, and was hurting, all alone, _because of him_ , it made him feel far more terrible than those confusing feelings ever did. And then Haru-chan did more than just forgive him. Kinder and blunter than anyone Makoto had known, Haru _accepted him_. Saying that Makoto was Makoto, that he wanted him to stay that way, when even Makoto did not want to be himself anymore. For a moment, he could see himself through his childhood friend’s eyes, and saw someone good, someone _worthwhile_. Feeling like he was resurfacing after a long dive, his first gulp of oxygen was taking Haru’s hand and going swimming.

 

***

 

It was Saturday evening. Makoto spent his day completing a horrendous amount of homework and test preparation, in order to free up his evening and most of Sunday. This evening he was treating his English tutor to dinner, as a thank-you for his hard work. It took more than a year for Makoto’s English to improve, even after cram school, but now he could confidently say that he can hold his ground. He could even say it in English! 

His tutor was an English literature graduate student. He could hold entire conversations in English. He read newspapers as thick as books and books as thick as encyclopedias. Makoto was heartily grateful for his persistence and patience. 

As a parting gift, he wanted to get him something really special. He could, of course, go for expensive candy or fruit, but he wanted something that _endures_ , just like the knowledge he acquired. When he asked Hikaru-sensei if there was, after all, a book he wanted, his tutor just shrugged.

"How about you buy me dinner, instead?” he offered with a grin. Their conversations were held exclusively in English, upon Makoto’s insistence, although he was horribly embarrassed at first. It was hard to speak such bad English with someone who did not even have an accent, and whose Japanese was just as impeccable. Fumbling for an answer, Makoto said “Eh… I wanted a… memory, I think?”

"Do you mean a memento?”

"I think so.”

"Well, you asked what _I_ wanted,” his tutor rolled his eyes at him, “and you’re always busy when I want to take you to the bookstore.” There was a playful grumble in his voice, and Makoto found himself conceding. They talked about their reading repeatedly during the lessons, and Hikaru-sensei offered for them to go buy some beginners’ English books for Makoto to practice, but he always refused. His two free evenings were spent with Haru, and he did not want to skip their meetings. For a parting gift, however, he could make time.

“I like Italian food.” Hikaru-sensei announced happily, “Can you make it on Saturday?”

 

And so, instead of meeting Haru on the night before his flight, he found himself eating Carbonara across from his ex-tutor, who insisted that Makoto should just call him “Hikaru”, now that he is no longer his teacher. They talked about their plans for the summer break, and Makoto couldn’t help but smile when he mentioned visiting Iwatobi. “I am going to see my brother and sister, they must have grown so much! I saw them last time on New Year’s, and that was ages ago.” He caught himself rambling. “What do you plan on doing?”

"I will probably just stay here to start writing my thesis. I also plan to have some more time to have fun.” He flashed him a grin.

Makoto smiled back brightly. “You remind me of a friend from home. He also likes having fun and playing around, and he’s miserable when he doesn’t have the time.”

"Is it this ‘Haru’ you always speak of?” Hikaru sounded disgruntled, swirling the last of his wine in the glass.

"No, no!” Makoto snorted when visualizing Haru demonstrating Nagisa’s vigor. “Hazuki Nagisa. He studies at Tottori now.” Makoto was looking forward to meeting him, too. Rei will not be coming, but they planned on having a video chat with him, once everyone is back together.

"Well, aren’t you just popular?” The blond across the table raised an eyebrow at him, saying that last phrase in English. Makoto found himself blushing under the unwavering hazel gaze. “When are you going back, anyway?” He switched back to Japanese.

"In five days. I have to finish all my tests first.”

"Oh, in that case you will still be here for ‘A Midsummer’s Night Dream’! It is the one I told you about, with the fairies.”

"Hikaru-sensei is very keen on his Shakespeare.” Makoto smiled and drank his soda. He felt a little boyish for not drinking wine, but then again, his tutor was older than him, and Makoto convinced him to order wine so that the meal is, at least on his end, proper. They even ordered desserts, and it was the first time Makoto had tiramisu. He thought it was perfect, and vowed to tell Haru about it tomorrow when they talk. He wondered if Haru would find it too sweet.

When they returned to the university, Hikaru insisted on walking him to his apartment. The hour was quite late, and he knew his tutor lived in the newer dorms reserved for the graduate and postgraduate students. He was touched by how Hikaru knew he was uncomfortable in the dark, and went out of his way to accompany him. 

"Well...” his tutor said when they were next to his door, Makoto digging for his keys in his backpack. “Thank you for dinner.” He grinned at him again and Makoto rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, dropping the keys.

"That should be my line! Thank you… For everything. You really saved me.” He bowed.

"I guess that’s it, then? We never see each other again?” The light-haired man looked at Makoto over his glasses, appreciative and slightly amused. He found himself blushing again, grateful for the darkness. 

"Of course we will see each other. Once this semester is over I will be under a lot less pressure and we can see those plays you talked about.” Makoto hated displeasing people, and maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he was not one to abandon friendships that easily. “And seriously, thank you, again. I owe you so much.” He bowed again slightly in gratitude. 

"Damn it,” Hikaru-sensei was muttering softly, “you’re so cute.”

Makoto looked up, blushing yet again and quite certain he misheard. His eyes were the size of saucers, and he could feel his ears and neck catching up to his cheeks. His tutor was still eyeing him mischievously. Their gazes met, Makoto uncertain what to say. This was so different from how things were back in high school. Back then, girls told him that he’s always so kind, and gave him letters, which he accepted but never read. He would smile at them, genuinely flattered, and then apologize, saying he is not ready for anything like that just yet, that he wants to focus on his schoolwork. Haru overheard such a confession once, and remarked that Makoto’s way of phrasing was just raising their hopes up. They might check on his level of readiness the following year. Makoto, however, thought that allowing for some hope was better than saying he likes someone else. No one should feel inferior or unworthy of love. “They will like someone else by next year” was his answer to his friend. _A hypocritical one at that_ , he thought at the time, _since I love you just as much as I did in middle school_. Presently, here was someone who was not a high school girl. Not a girl at all. And he was forward and charming, smart and self-possessed. Makoto was not sure what to say to make him go away – not entirely certain he wanted him to.

"Come on, don’t leave me hanging, you must have noticed,” his ex-tutor was combing through his hair with a slightly miffed sideways glance. He stepped forward, laying a slim-fingered hand on Makoto’s shoulder, looking to all the world like a man who is about to break his diet, “I really like you.”

Alone in the dark hallway, Makoto let the other man stand on tiptoe and kiss him. Hikaru’s lips were soft, and Makoto, curious and conflicted, kissed him back. Lightly, stooping slightly so as not to strain the blond’s neck. They kissed tentatively at first, but then their mouths opened against each other and Makoto’s brain went haywire. With a soft moan at the back of his throat, he let himself be gently pushed against the wall, Hikaru’s tongue like butterfly wings on his lips. Nimble fingers were at his neck and in his hair. Not sure what to do with his own hands, he placed them on the other’s hips. He wasn’t quite ready to touch anywhere else. Under the cotton-soft current of his thoughts, a slight panic arose. _What if we’re seen?_

He silenced it decidedly and did not stop. He wanted to kiss a boy for ages, but never thought he’d encounter anyone who was willing to kiss _him_. When Hikaru pulled away, burning a path of kisses from his jawline to his neck, Makoto could smell his hair. It smelled nice, like coconut and vanilla. And utterly, devastatingly, wrong. Something in Makoto’s head snapped back into place.

He made a light “hmm,” sound, not sure what to say. The soft nips at his neck did not particularly help him clear his mind. Shifting his hand to Hikaru’s shoulders, he pushed back slightly. The other man looked at him, confused.

"Ah- I’m sorry, Hikaru-sensei, it’s not fair to you… We need to stop.” He said it, sad and guilty, looking down and picturing Haru’s piercing gaze scorching holes through him.

"Again with the ‘sensei’?” His lips were reddish, wet, and he rolled his eyes at Makoto testily.

"You’re right, sorry. Hikaru.” _Drop the ‘-chan' already._ “But I… I shouldn’t have done it. I like someone else.”

"You seem to have liked me just fine -” he muttered.

"I do, but… I’m... It’s just… I’m really sorry, but it’s not in the same way. And it’s not fair to you, you should be with someone who is… there.” Makoto sighed, “I was taking advantage of you, and I’m sorry. I wanted to see what it would be like, because the person I like… I don’t think he likes me that way.”

"Does he like girls?” The question caught Makoto off guard, because it was one of those things he and Haru never talked about. Girls.

"I… I don’t know if he likes anyone that way.” He found it awkward to talk about Haru behind his back, but also gratifying, to be putting all those thoughts into words.

"Just tell him, then.” Hikaru shrugged, still holding Makoto’s shoulders and looking exasperated at the fumblings of juniors. The thought of “just telling” Haru made a new wave of anxiety wash over him.

"It’s not like that,” he said wistfully, “he’s my best friend.”

It was the first time he said it out loud, and it rang in his ears as if he shouted. 

"Well, I suspected as much,” the blond’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head knowingly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I figured it was worth a shot. G’night, Ma-ko-to-kun!” He pecked Makoto’s cheek and left, his stride slightly less sprightly than before.

Makoto stared after him for what felt like ages, oblivious to the dark, his bruised lips, and to Haru, running so fast he was already halfway home. He reached for his keys on the floor, unlocked the door, shuffled out of his shoes and collapsed on the bed, burying his face in the pillows. It took a long time for those cerulean eyes to stop staring daggers at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, more flashbacks! I enjoyed writing those tremendously.
> 
> I want to write a shorter MakoHaru piece, and I'm looking for prompts since I have no interesting ideas. I would prefer a canon compliant missing moment. Also, would like to write something about going to the movies. Which movies would they like, except Finding Nemo and Ponyo?  
> If anyone has something they want written (nothing explicit, though ^^;), please share!
> 
> Next chapter will have more, erm, action. Yes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  On the cold, blank canvas, he could see Makoto’s face perfectly. Eyes closed. Lips parted. His, and not his.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do must say, this is my favorite chapter (well, this and the last one, I think).

It was Sunday. Makoto hung up his phone for the seventh time, sighing. He knew Haru refused to take his mobile with him, which was the reason he called three times in the morning, before the bus was set to leave, and once an hour since then, begging his boss to split his break time so he could try again. He was changing the sheets in one of the patients’ rooms when he realized the hour was 16:20. Haru’s flight had already taken off.

"Are you okay, Tachibana-kun?” Makoto was startled by one of the nurses, looking concerned in his pink scrubs. It was already dark, the city’s lights were blotting out the stars, and the end of Makoto’s shift was approaching. He nodded, “I’m okay.”

What would be the point of telling a coworker that he feels like he betrayed his best friend, twice? That he was always there for Haru, but now, when it was most important, he couldn’t even get a hold of him, never mind sending him off? That he pictured Haru’s face, heavy-lidded and blushing, while kissing someone else? Nope, that is _definitely_ not the type of things one tells a coworker.

"Good job today,” the nurse said, to which Makoto replied “Good job,” bowed, and hurried to the staff room. 

Changing as quickly as he could, he practically ran to the train station, heart hammering against his ribs. He hoped Haru simply forgot his phone, or dropped it in the tub, and had left already, but his head kept playing horrible scenarios that culminated in Haru having another panic attack and skipping the trip to Hong Kong altogether. Makoto resented his brain for conjuring up such scenarios, but could not help the rush once they materialized. Running the rest of the way to Haru’s apartment, he composed himself, ran his hand through his hair and rang the doorbell. No answer. No light drifted from under the door. He tried the doorknob and found the apartment was locked. Haru-chan was definitely not there.

Makoto walked back to the university’s sports center. Going directly to the locker rooms, he hoped to find someone who knew whether Haru left with the rest of the team. Fortunately, as he approached the twin doors leading to the showers, a first year student came out of the ladies’ side, bag on shoulder. She was on the women’s swimming team, but Makoto guessed her times were not good enough to make it to the tournament.

"Erm… Honami… san?” Makoto hoped she remembered him. “Have you seen Haru today? I can’t reach him on the phone and I was just around...” _That sounded almost calm and reasonable,_ Makoto thought, _calm and reasonable is good._

"Nanase-kun?” She looked at him like he was slightly deranged. “He is in Hong Kong.”

"I know he was going but… I couldn’t reach him earlier, too.”

"I’m sorry, I don’t know.” She was smiling uncomfortably, “I saw him on the bus with the others in the morning. Rio says he never uses his phone.”

Makoto breathed a sigh of relief. At least Haru was with his teammates. They usually watch over him.

"You didn’t strike me as the jealous-boyfriend type,” Honami added, giving him a somewhat disappointed look. Makoto stared at her in amazement, feeling his face reach the delicate shade of a boiled lobster. “I’m not really… It’s not really… Thanks again, I have to go.”

Breathing in a more orderly fashion, Makoto returned to the train station, mentally scolding himself. It was not healthy to rush over every time he thought Haru was in trouble. The fact was, most of the time Makoto thought up terrible scenarios only to find his friend staring at him, deadpan, from the safety of his bathtub.

He was approaching his dormitories when he heard someone calling him.

"Evening, Makoto-kun.”

His upstairs neighbor was carrying a bag as large as himself, and several fat volumes to boot. Makoto rushed to relieve his burden.

"Evening. Studying, I guess?” Armful of books each, they continued towards the dorm building. “I should probably try to study tonight as well.”

"Better late than never!” Mori-kun laughed, a little maniacally. He paused. “I’m glad I ran into you. Is Nanase-san okay?”

Makoto turned to stare. “What do you mean?”

"Last night he looked really upset. He literally ran into me. I’ve figured he was at your place.”

Makoto’s heart suddenly shriveled in his chest and his feet refused to keep moving. The events unraveling in his head did not seem as far-fetched anymore. “You saw Haru… here? When?”

"Erm… Around midnight, I guess? They locked up the library so I went home. It’s so cool that you’re friends with a professional athlete! You should invite me over the next time he visits!”

Makoto was not really listening. He mumbled a noncommittal “hm,” his mind racing. If Haru was here, in their building, around midnight, then he must have… he **must** have…

Plastering on a smile, he walked Mori to his apartment and handed him the books. If Haru saw him kissing Hikaru, he must have been angry. Disgusted, even. How could he not tell his best friend of fifteen years something of such magnitude, and then still shower together and have sleepovers like it was of no significance at all?

_Well, it wasn’t like that!_ Makoto wanted to yell at the mortified Haru-chan in his head. _You are my best friend. I invited you to stay over because I enjoy your company, not to ogle you. And I swearswearswear I’ve kept to myself in the shower, and when we changed. I would never… I would_ _ **never**_ _… I would_ _never, If you don’t want me to._

Then again, on some level, he knew Haru might not even care about this sort of thing. He undressed in public without batting an eye, taking no heed of whoever was watching. He also never demonstrated any interest in a romantic relationship, heterosexual or otherwise. Somewhat eccentric himself, he accepted eccentricity in others without questioning it. He never commented on Rei’s eternal pursuit of beauty, nor Rin’s openhearted sentimentality, so different from his own. He never, ever mocked Makoto for being the coward that he is, even though Nagisa found his tendency to cling to Haru endlessly amusing. Haru himself never joined in. So maybe that is not the reason Haru was upset with him. But it had to be because of him. Haru was here yesterday at midnight and then he ran off. What else could have... 

Another thought slithered its way into the serpents’ nest of his anxious mind. _What if Haru heard what you told Hikaru-sensei?_ It was just one sentence, whispered and hesitant, but he could have. _He could have heard that I was…_

In love with him? For all those years? If Haru heard **that** , how would he have reacted? 

 

Not bothering to turn on the lights, Makoto dumped himself on the small sofa in his “living room”, his feet sticking out. Haru already knew Makoto loved him. He told Haru that he loved him multiple times. But it was always in relation to something else. 

I love Haru and I love swimming. 

We all love Haru and care about him. 

I love Ren and Ran, so much! 

_Tell Haru-chan that you love him too, big brother._

Of course I love Haru-chan too.

 

It was never _I love you, and I wish we could spend the rest of our lives together._

_I love your eyes, and your idiosyncrasies, and your determination._

_I love you, because you are so talented and loyal and beautiful, and being important to you is the joy of my life_. 

Well, he was not sure how Haru would react to that, really.

 

_And maybe, just maybe…_ Makoto’s anxious mind was dissatisfied with this new, positive course of thinking. _Maybe Haru was angry because he was jealous?_

Makoto shook his head at that. Fantasies never get you anywhere. He just wanted to call Haru, have him stare at Makoto through the computer screen while he fumbles for words to explain himself. Of course, Haru-chan will say that nothing happened and it was none of Makoto’s concern, anyway. A lie, of course. They rarely fought, but they lied to each other plenty. Things were always okay, until they weren’t. Until one of them was sick of pretending, and _then_ they would yell at each other. Since the fight before nationals, they have not quite reached DEFCON 1 again. Makoto suspected that Haru may need a long time to come around this time. He wanted to believe that he will, eventually. 

 

Makoto sighed and turned on the overhead light, bringing his laptop from the bedroom. When the cannons roar, it’s time to call Rin.

 

***

 

Haru was ploughing through three days of preparations and a four day tournament, but it was not going as well as he had hoped. His swimming was agitated and messy, and he couldn’t bring himself to calm down. His coach was on edge, the other relay swimmers displeased, and his overall prospects were far from promising. The water was angry at him, he thought.

He raced against his teammates at practices, and finished third or fourth, something that hasn’t happened since the first month of freshman year. His times used to be the best on the team, and he was enrolled in all the short distance freestyle events in the tournament, but at his current rate, he was not going to win any of them. People from other teams, other universities, other **countries** , came to watch him swim. He could see the relief of their faces as they left, a confident spring in their step. On the evening before the opening ceremony, Haruka went to his room feeling like a particularly repugnant sack of rotten fish.

Shindo was already there, sprucing up his uniform and going through his pre-tournament ritual that consisted of garlic powder and rosemary sprigs. Haru, baffled by Rio’s inclination to turn his jammers into a Porchetta, ignored him, and dropped onto his bed. His useless phone was on the night stand, still uncharged, a doomsday device, lurking in wait for Haru’s resolve to torture himself. If he doesn’t get his game on by tomorrow… Well, it’s simple, really. He just had to. _Accept the water._ _Do n_ _ot fear it. Swim free in this beautiful city, across from this beautiful harbor, and conquer another small piece of_ _that_ _dream._ And this will **not** happen if he keeps running away from his problems like before, and running away from his problems is – 

"Hey, Nanase, what are you doing with my charger?”

"Just borrowing it for a few minutes.” Haru said flatly, unplugging Rio’s fully-charged phone and attaching his own. Rio, suspicious, sprinkled more garlic on his uniform. _I wonder if his girlfriend is anosmic_ Haru thought detachedly. 

"What is it with you today, anyway? Did you eat properly?” Shindo looked concerned and Haru felt a tiny wave of gratitude lapping at his indifference.

"I don’t know.” Haru lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. On the cold, blank canvas, he could see Makoto’s face perfectly. Eyes closed. Lips parted. His, and not his. Haru turned away. “I will be okay for tomorrow.” He said. Rio shrugged, asked him if there was anything he wanted, and when Haruka said no, left to have dinner. Haru waited a few second and then locked the door behind his teammate. He can knock when he returns. 

He took a huge, gulping breath and pushed the power button on his phone. Turning slowly back to life, Haru stared at the animated dolphin on his lock screen. One text. Two. Five. Eleven. Sixteen. Haru leafed through them, still not ready to open those Makoto had sent him. There were some from Rio and other members of the swimming team, dated to the day of their departure from Japan. All of them wanted to know where he was, before Rio came to get him, he assumed. Nagisa sent him a ‘good luck’ with a picture of himself in his bedroom, cutesy pajamas, book piles and all. It was sent half an hour ago. Rei sent one, too, earlier, telling him he will do beautifully. And then there was one from Rin. 

 

_Call me when you see this. I know you’re angry._

 

It was sent two days ago. _But how would R_ _in_?.. Suddenly, Haru could feel his cheeks and neck burning up. Did Rin know something had happened? And if he did, who could have told him except Makoto? But that means Makoto knew he was angry, knew what he saw.

Haru’s ire at himself rekindled. He definitely did not like making ripples in the puddle. He wanted some time away to put his thoughts in order, and maybe figure a way to handle this new situation, but he did not want Makoto to think he was upset with _him_. No, he wasn’t exactly upset. He was – 

 

Shaking himself, Haru charged his outbound calls credit and skyped Rin. He picked up immediately, looking disheveled, his face glowing screen-blue from the darkness around him. He must have been asleep.

"Ha-Haru?” Holding the phone in one hand, he rubbed his eyes with the other, yawning. “It’s the middle of the night, you know!” In his annoyance, Haru forgot about the time difference. However, he figured that Rin was already awake, so they may as well talk.

"I compete tomorrow, and I suck.” He told Rin dispassionately as a greeting. Rin’s sleepy eyes looked concerned, burgundy on the screen. 

"Haru… I talked to Makoto, he’s worried about you.” Rin started gently. Haru preformed his version of an eye roll, which was doing nothing.

"Makoto is always worried.”

"Maybe… your sucking is somehow related to his being worried?” Haru could no longer see the pillow behind Rin’s head, and he assumed his long-time rival sat up. 

"It’s not my problem that he’s like that.” He said after a thought.

"Like what?” Rin began to sound exasperated.

Haru did not know what Makoto had told Rin. If what Haru saw was a secret, it wasn’t his to share. And anyway, Makoto could do whatever he wanted. It was not like he owed Haruka anything. 

"Worried all the time.” He finished lamely.

"He told me that you didn’t answer his calls at all, and he thinks you’ve found out something about him… He said, ‘something I havn’t told him’… And that you’re angry at him because of that.”

_That’s_ _one_ _way to put it_. “I saw him with – someone. He didn’t tell me.”

"Haru…You know that you’re both adults. He is allowed to go out with people.” Haru could practically hear Rin’s effort to be patient, which was quite admirable in the middle of the night, but irritating nonetheless, “You’re allowed to go out with people.”

Haru found himself flustered and chose to avoid eye contact. 

“I don’t want to… with other people.”

The other swimmer chuckled, his eyes empathic. “Man, you’re so stubborn sometimes. You should call him back. And you **have** to kick everyone’s asses tomorrow. If you don’t continue to the semifinals, I will personally kill you the next time we meet.”

_The next time we meet._ Who knows when that’s going to happen?

"Anyway, Makoto said to tell you that he’ll be waiting for you at the airport when you come back, and you can talk then.” Rin rolled his eyes at the unsatisfactory message. “He said to tell you good luck. But you don’t need luck, Haru, you’re you. So just get your shit together. If you lose this race, I will never forgive you. Now I’m going back to sleep!”

Before Haru could add another word, Rin hung up. As if from a great distance, he suddenly heared Rio banging on the door, yelling for Haruka to let him in. Haru unlocked the door, apologized, and went to bed, burying himself in his blankets and making sure to turn his phone back off. Rio was angry, too. Haru could hear his roommate fuming and mumbling under his breath. One blue eye peeked out of the covers.

"What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to sleep?”

"It’s Akane-chan. She’s driving me crazy.” Haru stared at him with his one available eye. Akane Honami was Shindo’s girlfriend, an allegedly anosmic first year student who was also on the team. They had the nasty habit of fighting, frequently and loudly, and then have extensive make out sessions as a very public reconciliation. “Look what she’s sent me!” He shoved his phone in front of Haru’s visible eye. On it was a selfie of Akane Honami, looking awfully snug with a handsome, long haired man who was holding a milkshake with two straws. _Just catching up with Kyou-chan. I can’t believe he goes to Todai!_

"She’s just sending me those to make me jealous!”

Haru blinked. “Why would you be jealous? She’s your girlfriend, not his.” He stated matter-of-factly.

"Because I hate to see her with his hands all over her! You know, a part of being a couple is that you’re not supposed to act this way with other people.” Rio whined. He dumped his phone on the bed and buried his face in his hands, “And if she weren’t so smart and hot, I’d have opted out. She keeps saying she wants me to trust her, and then she sends me those pictures with a ton of other boys. Ones she used to date before, too! It’s just cruel to torture me like that, when she knows there is no way I’d break up with her.”

Haru interred himself in his duvet once again, unresponsive. _A part of being a couple is that you’re not supposed to act this way with other people._ But what was this way? Touching casually, holding hands for a second when climbing out of the pool, sharing an ice pop, reading each other’s minds… This familiarity seemed to be what bothered Rio, anyway. But Haru and Makoto were not a couple. Makoto was his friend. His best friend. The fact that Makoto kissed someone else, or perhaps has another person in his life, doesn’t change that. They will always have their own language, their own rhythm, their childhood memories. _He is_ _ **your**_ _best friend, not Mr. Other Guy’s._ And anyway, Rin had other people in his life, and it did not bother Haru in the slightest. He fluffed his pillow and turned to the other side, listening as Shindo’s even breaths turned into light snoring. Maybe because he always had to share Rin, it was easier. Rin had known Sousuke before he and Haruka met, and Gou was just one year younger than them. It was never just him and Rin, the way it was with Makoto. But he learned to share Makoto as well, first with the twins (Makoto was so fascinated by them when they were babies, that he refused to leave the house in the afternoons and insisted Haru should come over instead), then with Rin and Nagisa, and with so many others later on. This new person, the blond bespectacled youth whose face Haru could not remember, was the first person ( _that I know of,_ came the frightening thought) to show Makoto a sight he never saw before, an experience he and Haru didn't share. Moments before submerging into a deep sleep, it crossed his mind that he wanted to be the one to do just that.

 

***

 

Haruka was dreaming. In his dream, he was at the beach near his parents’ house at Iwatobi. The waves licked at the sand, silver under a full moon, and he was breathing in the salty air, preparing for a dive. Looking back, it wasn’t Iwatobi after all. There was no town behind him, no friendly lights twinkling through the velvety darkness. Soft mounds of sand sprawled at the bottom of the mountains, giving way to sharp rocks. Still, the water was familiar and welcoming. It accepted him as he dove, and the currents carried him weightlessly towards the horizon. He thought he was alone, but when he rose for air, Makoto was swimming next to him. It made sense, in his dream, that Makoto would swim with him, fearless, under the star-strewn sky. The other boy smiled, and using his strong, wild strokes, pushed forward, until he came to stand just in front of Haru. Haru stood in the water too, surprised, since he thought they swam quite a distance from the shore. He was wrong. They were standing in the shallows, waves lapping at their thighs, and Makoto reached for his hand, water droplets reflecting the silvery-white light on his shoulders, his collarbones, his chest and his hips. His hair was pushed back, tousled, and his hand was warm. Haru wanted to ask him why he stopped, how could they be at Iwatobi, and whether Makoto was angry at him, but he couldn’t. Makoto grabbed his other hand and pulled him under. 

Haru gasped, surprised at the sudden jerk. He kept his eyes open. 

The water, in the shallows, was deep. Like always in his dreams, his eyes did not sting, and his lungs were not begging for another mouthful of oxygen. He was looking at his best friend as they floated, holding hands, hair framing their faces like a halo. The water seemed to radiate around them, reminiscent of the glow-in-the-dark stickers Makoto had on his ceiling back home, but softer, lighter, _alive_. Makoto was still smiling at him, under the ocean, his jade eyes fierce and caring. Staring at their intertwined fingers, completely at ease, Haru thrust himself forward with one strong kick, closing the distance between them. Their lips touched, perfectly, and Haru felt Makoto’s soft exhalation bubbling on the tip of his nose. He pulled away, tilting his head just so, making the kiss deeper, closer, than the first. He wanted to touch Makoto properly, without a curtain of water between them. Just as the thought formed, the waves carried them to shore, to the liquid sand, where they once watched the sun set in a swimming pool of their own making. It was a dream, and so the night air was heady, and Haru was pinning Makoto to the sand, one hand on a broad shoulder, the other on the ground, just the way he imagined it seconds before. He leaned forward and kissed him again, this time relishing the smooth sensation of skin on skin and water. How many times did they brush against each other in practices? But it was never like this. He never thought he wanted it before, but now the contact made him shiver with longing. The waves were tugging at his calves, slipping under them, the tide rising. 

The tips of Makoto’s fingers were trailing a path down his spine, the thumb slowly circling his hip bone when he reached it. He caught Makoto’s full lower lip between his own, and bit, making the taller boy’s breath catch in his throat.

“Haru,” he moaned, his voice was breathy and low, yet he was grinning mischievously. “You’re being bossy.”

In one swift motion, Makoto was above him, his childhood friend now lit by the blue-white sheen of the unfamiliar. He cupped the nape of Makoto’s neck, the exact same spot the green-eyed boy used to reach for when embarrassed, and pulled him down. Makoto’s fingers tangled in his hair, and he could feel their breaths mingling in the centimeters between them. Makoto smiled at him again, the same familiar boyish expression, and whispered, “You really are the best in the water, Haru-chan.” 

In his dream, Haru was happier than he could ever remember.

 

And then his alarm clock went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize I described [this piece of official art](http://gallery.minitokyo.net/download/643192) until I reread it before publishing. I'm okay with it, though, because I love this piece so much (and the ones with the other boys, too! Especially RinHaru). The final scene of the chapter is actually the reason I wrote the entire thing. The exchange near the end is what I imagined Makoto saying in j-witless's amazing fanart, to which I linked before chapter 1. I thought it had to be a dream because:  
> 1\. Makoto is in the ocean at night. What are the odds?  
> 2\. The water is freakin' glowing.  
> 3\. Makoto is right on top, and I don't think he'd be very assertive with Haru if their relationship was not already fairly established. I think it would require some process. Or Haru fantasizing :-) This is in no way a seme/uke sort of thing. I think their relationship is very well balanced in that respect, but I also think Mako-chan is too considerate to be assertive after hiding his feeling for so long. Will stop babbling now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Selfishly, Makoto still decided to take this last chance. Almost a compulsion, he longed to run his fingers through the fire, tease the flame and dare it to scorch him. But if he fails, he knew Haru’s hand will burn along with his.  
> 

Makoto was seventeen when he got his first glimpse of the future. He hated it.

Ever since Rin returned to their lives and with him, Haru’s passion for swimming, Makoto realized his best friend was bound to reach places he could not follow. They were going to finish high school, and the world will finally see how amazing Haru-chan is. One month before the prefectural championship during their third year, Makoto devised his own private way of running his fingers through a flame. If he could beat Haru just once, when it mattered, if they’d be neck to neck, reaching for the finish line, then maybe they will not have to grow apart. Maybe he could be amazing, too, instead of watching from the sidelines, and they could go on swimming together. Haru promised him, after all, all those years ago. 

Makoto even convinced himself that it was possible. Haru did not have his endurance, so he chose the 200 meters freestyle race. He stayed after practice, to work on his crawl. He was a pretty good swimmer. It was absolutely within reach. He will beat Haru once, and then he can go on lying to himself about walking down the same path. Easy. 

 

A childish part of him, the same one that ached for Haru’s unwavering attention when he was younger, now wanted to make Haru heat up the same way Rin could. Speaking of Rin, though, he knew this race would be a balancing act. He remembered what happened the last time Haru raced against a friend. That winter in middle school, Haru built a wall around himself. It was melted, in the end, by the arrival of summer and visits to the ocean, but for the first time in all their years together, the name Haruka seemed appropriate for his Haru. It has been five years since then, but his best friend was still just as caring, could guilt himself into quitting just as easily. Selfishly, Makoto still decided to take this last chance. Almost a compulsion, he longed to run his fingers through the fire, tease the flame and dare it to scorch him. But if he fails, he knew Haru’s hand will burn along with his.

 

Jumping in was fine and well, but on the final leg, he realized he has lost. He felt his muscles scream, saw the black-and-purple blur of the swimsuit in the next lane, and then the bubbly trail left in its wake. Haru kept his promise – he raced him for real, and won. It did not require some exceptional feat of human physique, either. It was not even a personal best. Makoto lost simply because he was not good enough. He reached out his hand to grab at a dream and found nothing but water escaping his grasp. At the finish line, he needed ten heaving seconds to compose himself, the weight of Haru's gaze fixed on him all the while. He felt something warm trailing down his cheek, pool water or sweat or tears, but he could not let the future tear them apart just yet. It was the soft, fearful way in which Haru whispered his name that, finally, helped him keep his resolve. He wore the happiest smile he could muster, and faced his loss in a way that would not break Haru-chan’s heart. It was the least he could do. He took a long time in the shower, after, trying to sort through his feelings. To not let anything show. His own selfishness should not affect his teammates, should not affect Haru. When he emerged, wearing his team’s uniform again, he could watch him and Rin swim together without regrets. His stomach was in knots, sadness and joy swirling inside him like ink and water. He may never follow Haru to where he was going, but he is not going to hold him back, either. Haru was amazing. Even if Makoto can’t awaken this competitive side of his best friend, Rin can, and he will. Things were bound to change now, he knew, but maybe they will change for the better. Maybe, if their lives were slightly less intertwined, each of them can carve his own path, side by side, and be truly free. Maybe, at seventeen, it was time to try.

 

***

 

Haruka Nanase was standing on the starting block, feeling the pinpoint pricks from the hundreds of eyes in the Hong Kong arena. It was the first heat, on the first day of the East Asian University Championship, and at last he was calm, focused, turning himself into an ear. He awoke that morning, flushed and confused, annoyed at his impudent alarm clock, but also surprisingly lighthearted. It was like tugging at the ends of a huge tangle of string, and have it unravel instantly. He finally had some sort of an answer. He may not like it, or know what to do with it, but it was there, making things straightforward again.

At the sound of the starter pistol, he jumped into the pool, body arching to meet the water like an arrowhead. The water bared its fangs, his competitors only a few centimeters behind. He thrust his arm into the surface, and made an opening, letting his body glide through it. The water was placated. 

He could only hear his own labored breathing, cocooned in his own private world within the busy stadium. Pushing forward as he reached the turn, the water was glowing around him once more, a gentle turquoise light. The roof of the arena disappeared, tiles and sunshine giving way to the starry night sky. Makoto was swimming next to him in the same lane, but faster, more determined. Haru picked up his own pace to swim next to his best friend, together. Meeting the wall just right, he dolphin kicked his way back, and pressed on. Makoto was looking back at him, smiling ( _when did he get so far ahead?_ ) and Haru found himself once again following the familiar path towards the person who understands him best of all, the one who will always be waiting for him, laughing, at the end of the lane.

 

He rose from the final stroke, one hand on the touch pad, the other tearing off his goggles and cap. The finish line was empty, decidedly Makoto-less, and so were the lanes next to him. It took five whole seconds for the next swimmer to touch his own pad. He could suddenly hear the crowd’s roar, his teammates calling his name. Shaking his bangs out of his eyes, he felt overwhelmingly grateful: for the water’s comforting caress, for the opportunities that brought him to this moment and for the people. For their constant presence in his life. There were four days ahead of him, but he will keep his promise, advancing to the next stage. It seemed, at that moment, as if water has forgiven him after all. He hoped Makoto will, too.

 

***

 

The twins tackled Makoto, backpack and all, even before he could see his parents standing at the arrivals gate. He never consciously thought that he was getting older, but seeing Ren surpassing Ran and still growing made his heart ache with both wonder and sadness. He hugged them for a long time and then his parents, planting kisses on their cheeks. Standing behind them, strangely subdued, was Nagisa. When Makoto smiled at him (uncontrollably, really) his childhood friend emitted a huge wail and launched himself at Makoto. 

_"_ I missed Mako-chan soooo much.” 

In the year since they last saw each other, Nagisa had finally hit his growth sprout. _That leaves Haru-chan_ _as_ _the shortest, but it can’t be helped,_ Makoto chuckled fondly, Nagisa still at his neck, _I bet he will be cranky when they meet._

Thinking of their impending meeting darkened his mood. Haru was supposed to come stay with the Tachibanas, his own parents’ house finally rented out, but if he is still angry with Makoto when he returns…

 

The six of them returned to Iwatobi and had a giant dinner, after which Nagisa had to catch the train back home. Makoto walked him to the door while the others stayed in the living room, settling in for a movie.

"Say, Nagisa, have you talked to Haru this week?” He tried not to show how worried he was, since this will no doubt raise some other questions.

"Mmmm, I’ve sent him some texts, but he didn’t answer.”

"He told me his phone will be off, but he called Rin at some point so I was hoping maybe you spoke to him, too… Erm,” he couldn’t quite meet his friend’s eyes while talking, focusing instead on the sunny tip of his head, “I think he might be angry at me… There was something I didn’t want to tell him, but he found out anyway, just before he left, and...” he sighed, “I don’t know what’s going to happen on Tuesday, but if he is still… He might want to sleep at Nagisa’s place instead, just as a back up, if you can.”

When he finished talking, his skin crawling with embarrassment for imposing on his friend’s holiday plans, Nagisa simply smiled at him.

"I get it.” He gave Makoto a heartwarming grin and patted his shoulder, “Mako-chan asks for favors so rarely, so I have to agree. But I bet Haru-chan cannot stay angry with you for that long. And you promised to come play on Thursday, anyway, so you have to make up by then!” He tapped his toes against the floor to push his shoes on, shouldering his bag. “Also, now I’m dying to know what you’re talking about!” He winked. Makoto reddened and hurried to push Nagisa out the door before more questions were asked. With a final “Thank you for dinner!” he departed, leaving Makoto slightly less worried. However, the thought of facing Haru, alone, in just a few days still felt like stones in his gut.

 

***

At his Hong Kong hotel room, Haruka was packing his bag. He carefully wrapped his spare clothes around the three individual trophies and five golden medals he earned. His lips twitched upwards when he swaddled Makoto’s present with the shirt he borrowed by mistake, now clean and smelling of detergent. 

Yesterday, after the closing ceremony, they were given the evening off. With Makoto’s voice in his head chiding him for being a recluse, Haru tagged along when Sato and Shindo, accompanied by Nishimura and some other girls, decided to visit the Temple street night market. It was massively crowded, the pavements packed with merchants selling counterfeit bags, cheap shoes and trinkets. The smell of food was everywhere, and his teammates wandered off in search of dinner. Haru’s attention, however, was drawn to a minute stall that sold jade miniatures. They came in various shades, from the light pastel of the first spring leaves to the clouded forest green of a fir tree’s canopy. Some were shaped like warriors and dragons while other were cutesy Zodiac animals. A leaping orca, as big as his thumb, had the exact shade of Makoto’s eyes, and that was the present he chose. When he located his teammates, bag in hand, they were already looking for him.

"Where did you go!?” Nishimura scolded him. Staring at them blankly, he presented his gift bag as an explanation.

"Yeah, I get you, bro,” Rio was came up behind him, sighing enormously, “Akane-chan always complains when I don’t bring her souvenirs, but I guess Nanase is a better boyfriend than me.”

The realization that they decided, months ago, that Makoto was _already_ his boyfriend sent a contented tremor down his spine. He promptly ignored Rio and bought himself a shrimp skewer, determined not to let his imagination run wild.

 

That same evening, after they were both in their beds and Shindo turned off the lights, Haru borrowed his charger again. The tournament was over, the trophies were won (two relay trophies, _two_. Take that, Rin), and he felt like he could face his other problems now. If they even were problems, that is. He turned on his phone and tapped the envelope icon. Three unread messages from Makoto appeared on the screen.

 

The first one, sent at noon on the previous Sunday:

_Is everything okay?_

 

The second, that same Sunday night:

_I’m so sorry I couldn’t call on time. I’m glad you went._

 

The last one came on Wednesday, just before his first race:

_Do your best, Haru. I wish I could cheer for you in Hong Kong._

 

And just like that, the doomsday device became a piece of plastic and metal once again. Haru sighed to himself, ridiculing his previous dread. Just then, his phone chimed. He jumped, looking at Rio guiltily, but the other swimmer kept sleeping without so much as a twitch. Two new messages:

 

_Don’t forgot that I’m picking you up tomorrow._

_If you prefer to go to Nagisa’s, he says it’s OK but you should call him._

 

Regret washed over him anew. How could Makoto think that he wouldn’t want to see him? But if he did believe so… things might not go as well as he hoped. Not that he had any particular expectations in mind. He just wanted things to be normal, really, and he could figure out a way forward from there. Also (it dawned on him just now), Makoto’s messages suggested that he guessed Haru will see them eventually, thus once again proving that he knew him better than Haru knew himself. He allowed for a moment of delight at Makoto’s attention before scolding himself, since the way he treated his best friend did not merit any attention at all. Before turning his own phone off and reattaching Rio’s to the charger, he sent just one text, his first on this trip.

 

_See you tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Omake:**  
>  Evening, Temple street night market.  
> Hinata Nishimura: Hey, Nanase-kun, you barely ate anything. Why don't you have dinner with us?  
> Haruka Nanase: Out of cash.  
> Rio Shindo: But you just bought this tiny statue. It's not supposed to cost more than 150 dollars.  
> Haruka Nanase: ...  
> Rio Shindo: You used all your money for this tiny statue!?  
> Haruka Nanase: The sticker said 470.  
> Hinata Nishimura: But you know... the price is more like... a suggestion?  
> Haruka Nanase: ...  
> Hinata Nishimura: You were supposed to haggle!  
> Haruka Nanase: ...  
> Swimming team: *cry in unison for cluelessness' sake*  
> Haruka Nanase (thinking): _Well, if I'd known I could have gotten the dolphin, too. They do look better together..._
> 
> ***
> 
> Next two chapters are the finale (to be posted in the next two weeks). Thank you for sticking with me so far!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  "Ha-Haru...” his voice broke, the whisper fearful, thrilled and disbelieving all at once. Haruka, feeling like he was strong enough to face him, averted his gaze from the waves.  
> 

Haru was eleven years old, and his grandmother was sick. His mother came from Tokyo to care for her husband’s mother, but since she was in the hospital all day, Haru stayed with the Tachibanas. He tried to help as much as he could, waking up early and climbing the stone steps to his own house in the predawn greyness. He made breakfast for his mother, scrambled eggs with miso soup, and brought her bags for her when she left. The dark circles under her eyes scared him, and he didn’t know what else to do.

He went to school with Makoto, then to SC meetings, but the dead hours of the evening allowed him time to think. He didn’t like those nightfall speculations. Makoto’s face contorted with worry whenever he thought Haru wasn’t looking. The other boy had four fairly young grandparents, and he never before thought they could get sick. Haru did not think his grandmother could get sick, either, but one day she just said she didn’t feel well, and called for an ambulance. She hasn’t come home since then. When his mother arrived, two days later, he realized things were getting worse.

Two weeks passed since then, and Makoto’s room was cluttered with Haru’s belongings: his favorite toys, some clothes, books, video games. All those things that spelled ‘Haru’s home’ when Makoto visited, when his grandmother was still there. Makoto told his parents Haruka liked taking long baths, and they encouraged him to monopolize the bathroom for as long as he liked. They cooked his favorite food. Everyone was nice to him, everyone cared. That scared him even more.

During one of these twilight purgatories, he slipped through the door of the Tachibana house to sit low on the stone steps and watch the night stars emerge. His grandmother was born in Iwatobi. She moved when she was young to follow her husband to Tottori, but her son fell in love with his grandparents’ hometown and returned. Her own childhood home was also leaning against the very same mountain, a family of strangers inside. She was harsh sometimes, and she never hugged him even when he was very young, but her cooking was the best and she read to him every night before bedtime. She stored his trophies and medals away, saying they were not ornaments, but encouraged him to swim nonetheless. He never thought she might simply cease to exist.

He didn’t hear footsteps behind him, head buried in his arms as it was, but when he looked up, Makoto was sitting beside him, a large, dinner-filled plastic box on the step next to him.

"Mom thought maybe the house was a bit noisy for you today,” his smile was careful, like he was afraid Haru might break if he smiled at him too much. “I bet you miss your own house,” he added.

"Not really.” Haru answered, because admitting how big the hole in his life was will make it real.

He could feel the other boy’s eyes on him, the nervous twisting of his T-shirt’s hemline. “I'm sure she will get better,” Makoto said finally, the silence and darkness cloying around them.

"She won’t.” Haruka answered, honestly. He turned to look at his friend, whose eyes were already growing moist and shiny.

Makoto did not answer. He looked away from Haru, to where the ocean peeked behind gray houses. Makoto always said he felt like there is something unknown lurking in the ocean. It was the first time Haru understood his fear: there was something unknown hidden in life, too. Waiting for when you felt safe, loved and cared for, only to take the people who loved you away from you. Because they had to keep their job. Because they were getting sick. Because other people were more important than him.

"Haru...” Makoto’s voice was a terrified plea. It made him angry.

"She won’t! There is no point pretending that she will! My dad is on his way from Tokyo, you know what that means! She is not coming back, Makoto!” He didn’t cry since he was seven, not even when the kids teased him at school or the sea took away his kickboard. He was crying now. Makoto looked startled and helpless, but then he reached out his arm and pulled Haruka towards him, hugging him, tears soaking through the shoulder of his orange T-shirt. The hand that was resting between them earlier was now grasping Haru’s own trembling palm, and he was stable and solid, rocking him gently until he managed to stop crying and looked away. Makoto held on to his hand, and he was comforted by the contact.

"Promise you won’t leave,” Haru said finally, head still turned away.

"I won’t.” He answered, simply, without hesitation.

Their fingers were still wound together an hour later, when Makoto’s mother came to pick them up. Mrs. Nanase called from the hospital. They should drive there and say their goodbyes.

 

***

 

The sight of his best friend, standing next to the arrivals gate, holding a dolphin-shaped balloon with “Congratulations” written on it, made Haru’s guts revolve like the inside of a tumble dryer. Makoto didn’t look angry or hurt, either. He looked excited. All words evacuated Haru’s mind in a non-orderly fashion.

Makoto called his name, his face split into a smile. He gave Haru the balloon, prompting him to not-roll his eyes.

"I’m too old for that,” he said, seizing some straggling words after all, “you carry it.” Makoto shrugged, green eyes still on him. If he were a dog, he’d be wagging his tail.

"Rin sent me this. I knew you will do well,” he said, planting his phone under Haru’s nose. On it was the university swimming team’s group photo. Haru was scowling at the camera from the front center, his five medals on his neck. Two teammates’ arms were around him, the relay trophies (medley and freestyle) in their other hand. “He said he found it on your university’s website, but I suspect Samezuka alumni were involved.” The pride in Makoto's voice embarrassed Haru into silence.

They drove back to Iwatobi, Haruka determinedly staring out the bus window. The silence was comfortable, but he also felt like words were recolonizing his insides, waiting to be spilled. He hugged his backpack a little closer.

The bus stopped at the station near their houses (well, near Makoto’s house, now) and they got off. The weather was hot, it was August after all, but the ocean provided a welcome breeze. Tokyo was murkier, anyway.

"Makoto,” he finally managed, “Can we stay here for a bit?”

Makoto nodded, his face suddenly clouded, a tiny crease between his brows.

They sat on the step above the sand, leaning on Haruka’s bags, the dolphin secured to a handle.

He could see Makoto’s shoulders hunched forward, tense. His fingers were clenched and he avoided looking at Haru.

"I’m sorry Haru,” he started, his tone quiet, “I should have told you.”

"It’s… okay, that you have a boyfriend,” he answered according to his premeditated script. Makoto was facing the sea, his eyes far away. They returned to focus upon Haru’s comment.

"What?” he turned, reddening ferociously. “I don’t!”

Haruka felt something swell inside him, a miniscule gloating bubble that filled him like hot tea. “I… I was afraid of telling you before, though. About liking guys, that is.” Makoto added dolefully, “I thought you will hate me.”

"That’s stupid,” was the only answer he came up with.

"I know! I know...” the green-eyed youth scratched at the back of his neck, “I guess I cared… I care… What you think about me…”

"I know that,” Haru stated the obvious. He wanted to say he could never hate Makoto, not in a million years, but the words got stuck in his throat and he remained silent.

"But… Haru...” Makoto continued instead, “You were angry. I heard what happened before the flight. When you came over, I mean. I’m sorry I ruined your tournament.” Crestfallen, he withdrew into himself. Haru despised being the cause of such a significant portion of Makoto’s anxiety. He wanted to make him feel better, but he was never any good at that.

"When I saw you with that guy...” Haru’s stomach was now a kettle about to boil. There was no turning back. “I was jealous.”

A softer expression crossed Makoto’s face at the remark. “I know you don’t like it when I hang out with other people, and I guess dating is something we never talked about before. I didn’t know it was a date when we went out, to tell the truth,” he chuckled nervously, “But Haru, we will always be together. Even if I do date, it doesn’t change our friendship. I promised, right?” He smiled his dazzling smile and Haruka found himself nodding, color rising up his cheeks. Leap into the future. No turning back.

"I wasn’t jealous because you made friends. I… want you to make friends.” He fixed his eyes on the ocean ahead, drawing confidence. He longed to touch the water but stayed firmly at Makoto’s side, where he belongs. Here it comes. Dive in. Have no fears. “I was jealous because Makoto kissed someone else.”

Makoto just stared at him, dumbstruck, green eyes wide under the flop of brown, sun-kissed hair.

"Ha-Haru...” his voice broke, the whisper fearful, thrilled and disbelieving all at once. Haruka, feeling like he was strong enough to face him, averted his gaze from the waves.

Makoto’s eyes seemed dangerously watery, his lips quivering into an elated smile. Haru smiled a little at that. He reached for Makoto’s hand on the concrete between them and covered it with his own, trusting their thighs and his luggage to hide the gesture from passersby. Makoto’s hand was so large now. It’s been years since it fit neatly into his.

"I guess I kind of sprung it on you,” Haru added, self-consciously. “I didn’t think I cared before I saw you the other day. Sorry.”

Makoto shook his head, the fragile smile so wide now, it threatened to split his face in two. “I should apologize to you because...” he looked like he could barely contain himself. His tone was measured, but his voice was shaking. “Because I’ve always loved Haru. I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t want things to change, because I didn’t want to lose you. I really am a coward.” At that, Haruka could feel warmth spreading from his face down towards the rest of his body. Makoto was always honest, always so supportive and straightforward. Haru imagined him carrying the same fiery storm in his chest all these years, hiding it just to protect him, and was again amazed by how kind he was.

He wanted to kiss Makoto then and there, under the bright Iwatobi sky, the place where they shared so many meaningful moments in the past. But talking was a thing two boys could do at the boardwalk of a small Japanese seaside town. Kissing was not.

So they stayed there, at the beach, sneaking glances at each other, their interlaced fingers nestled between them. After a while, Makoto’s father called him to ask if they were dead, and Makoto apologized for the delay, saying they were on their way. The walk home was familiar, nostalgic, but this time their secret walked home with them, full of possibilities and promises, of memories mixed with hopes, and love. Love was there, too.

When he entered the Tachibana household, hugging the twins and Mrs. Tachibana, he could feel Makoto’s gaze on him, and a smile hovered on his lips once more.

"I’m home,” he said, and this time it was Makoto who answered, “welcome home.”

 

***

 

How do you touch someone, when the millionth time is also the first?

Makoto and Haru were alone at last in Makoto’s empty bedroom. The walls were bare, but the futon was spread and the bed freshly made. Ran and Ren finally went to their rooms, after the third round of DeepSea Crossing ended in a huge yawn from Makoto (a rather convincing one, he thought). Haru was sitting cross-legged on the bed and Makoto rose to lock the door behind his siblings, his face moderately on fire. He sighed his relief at the blessed silence around them, turning to look at Haru, whose sleeping clothes consisted of an old yellow Iwatobi High T-shirt and a pair of blue sweatpants, embellished by lightly flushed cheeks.

Makoto couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as he sat on the bed next to the person he loved most in the world. _And he likes me back!_ He thought. Haru was leaning against the wall, glowering at him, daring him to make a move. Makoto removed his glasses and lay back on the bed, one arm spread across the pillow, looking at Haru expectantly. He got the hint and lay down beside him, nestling against his shoulder. Makoto felt like his heart was immersed in golden light, soaring somewhere around his esophagus. He wanted to lie there, with the weight of Haru’s head on his shoulder, dark bangs tickling his chin, dazed by his chlorine-minty scent, forever. He could hear the other boy’s sharp intake of air against his neck, and wondered whether Haru could feel how strong his pulse was, drumming against his chest like a demented timpanist. They savored this new form of contact for a few minutes, drinking each other in, when Haru’s hand reached for the back of his head. Looking down, Makoto saw the deep-sea eyes glowering at him under the cover of inky lashes, but it was with determination more than anything else. Haru stretched lightly and pushed his lips against Makoto’s. They bumped noses before he thought to tilt his head, but Haru was quick to fix the mistake, leaning in and holding onto him. It was very different from Makoto’s first kiss. Haru’s lips were chapped, dry – like the rest of his skin – from spending so much time in the pool. He wasn’t gentle or suave, grasping greedily at the front of Makoto’s shirt. He imagined kissing Haru so many times: next to the dying bonfire on a trip to the mountains, at the school’s swimming pool after practice, in his dorm room while studying into the night. In all his musings, he was always the one to initiate that first kiss. Little did he know, it seems. His hand on Haru’s back pressed them closer together, and he opened his mouth tentatively.

"Makoto,” Haru broke away, his eyes huge. He looked a little scared of himself and Makoto retracted his arm, in case the physical contact was what startled him.

"It’s okay,” Makoto whispered, trying to sound reassuring, his voice soft. “We don’t have to, um, do anything.”

"We don’t.” Haru agreed, “But I want to. Just…” he blushed fiercely, “Just don’t move so much… Let me get used to it, okay?”

Makoto nodded happily, retreating. Haru-chan wanted to kiss him. Him! Of course he would let him take the lead. If Haru asked, he would fish the moon’s reflection out of the ocean for him.

The other boy climbed over him and switched off the overhead light. Makoto thought it was funny, that the notorious ‘Iwatobi Shopping-Mall Stripper’ was feeling bashful all of a sudden, but Haru returned and lay down beside him, serious and earnest. Makoto suddenly remembered the boy who escaped to the water whenever the noise got too loud, who pushed away Kisumi’s one-armed hugs and froze obediently when a relative wanted to fuss over him. It wasn’t embarrassment, he realized. Haru was just overwhelmed. After adjusting the circumstances, though, he was willing to try a second time.

He pushed at Makoto’s upturned shoulder until he was lying flat on his back, and leaned over him. Makoto, not quite adjusted to the darkness yet, could no longer see Haru’s expression, but the other boy’s eyes reflected the light filtering through the open window for a second, just before he closed them. When they kissed, gently this time, his own eyelids fluttered shut as well. Haru’s arms were on both sides of his head, keeping him stable. Their chests were against each other, heat seeping through thin fabric, and he marveled at the dialogue of their heartbeats. This time, he waited for Haru’s lips to part before his own, and then carefully, deliberately, tasted the salty sweetness of his mouth. The dark-haired swimmer moaned softly, the sound resonating all the way down to the tips of Makoto’s toes.

There are times when reality is not quite as grand as the expectations: the perfect plum in the stand is not as cold and tart as it appears, a much-anticipated movie turns out to be a simplistic, awkward chaos, a long missed friend is not as fun to be around anymore. Six years of yearning, though, did not make kissing Haru any less wonderful than he thought it would be. Makoto’s breath expired entirely when Haru straddled him, his legs over the taller boy’s stomach, peppering his neck with tiny, feverish pecks. With his own lips unoccupied, Makoto was free to talk, to ask for permission, but found himself lost for words.

"Is – is it okay if I…?” He placed his hands gently on Haru’s hips, two fingers reaching under the hemline of his shirt. The other boy nodded.

His parched skin was hot and silky, and Makoto’s hands glided over his lower back, his arms and the soft fuzz at the nape of his neck. He was thoroughly resisting the urge to pull Haru towards him, crush their bodies closer still and turn the other boy’s mind as spell-bound as his own. Their lips met once more, his neck now tingling from a hundred jittery kisses.

When Makoto’s hands brushed against his stomach a second time, Haru decided that enough was enough and pulled the shirt over his head, as if a glorious body of water was nearby. In answer to the surprised question in Makoto’s eyes he replied “it was getting in the way,” making the other boy blush. As a result, Haru also settled himself a little lower than before, his thighs pressing against Makoto’s pelvis in a way that introduced his brain to pyrotechnics. Makoto was not sure whose throat was making those tiny gasps, as they ground against each other, but the sound was undoing him completely.

He sighed, Haru’s name escaping his lips unbidden. Blue eyes flashed at him in the dark then, misty and elfin. He leaned on one elbow and pulled Haru towards him with his other arm, slowly, to give him a chance to wriggle away if he wanted to. He didn’t. Makoto buried his face in the crook of Haru’s neck, running his lips languidly over the delicate skin, inhaling deeply the cool, watery perfume, tasting salt and Hong Kong and _Haru_. His fingers hovered under the elastic waistband of Haru’s pajamas, just for a second, and he noted giddily that there was no swimsuit under it. The shorter boy pushed him back down at that moment, and kissed him long and hard on the lips. Then he pulled away.

"I…” Haru began, breathing heavily, his hair a mess. Makoto thought he never looked more beautiful. The next sentence was a mumble, one he could hear nonetheless, “I’m going to take a bath.”

Still leaning on his elbows, he stared after Haru as he left the room, grabbing his swimsuit out of his bag on the way out. A laughter bubbled inside him, and he half expected to wake up by now, yet, deliciously, the dream lasted. He was lying on an old mattress, in the bed that witnessed most of his life, but he felt like he was flying, sky-high in an endless blue.

When Haru returned half an hour later, locking the door behind him, Makoto was already asleep.  Treading softly in the dark room, he climbed into bed and pulled the blankets around the two of them. Maybe it was an unconscious gesture, but when he laid his head on the curve of Makoto’s shoulder, one sturdy arm tugged him close.

He never felt so calm out of the water before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, finally.  
> Next week is the last chapter, so I'm really grateful that you've stuck with me so far.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Makoto took the note from Haruka’s hands, unfolding it carefully, smiling at Haru’s bashfulness. The paper was worn around the edges, but the handwriting was clean and crisp, dark blue ink on a cream surface.  
> 

The week they spent at Iwatobi was like an oasis in the middle of a school-year desert: sitting on the beach of a warm-summer ocean, hiking in the woods with Nagisa and the twins, laughing as a throng of ITSC Returns children gathered around Haru after his demonstration race with Makoto and coach Sasabe. They went to sleep in the same bed every evening, and put the unused futon away every morning, only to spread and ignore it once more come nightfall. Haru always folded it before his morning bath, the rest of the house still deep in slumber, and none of the Tachibanas were the wiser. There would come a time to tell them, Makoto said, but right now he wants to have Haru - and the secret - all to himself.

It was a week full of discoveries. Makoto learned that Haru was far better at removing other people’s clothes than his own. If unbuttoning were to become Olympic sport, he would win all three medals. Haruka, from his side, learned that Gou Matsuoka was right all along: Makoto’s back was indeed his Charm Point. Even the lightest caress caused the taller boy’s breath to quicken, and Haru loved charting this new territory with lips and fingertips.

It wasn’t paradise exactly, though: Haru still escaped to the bathtub whenever he got too flustered, and Makoto was always on edge since Ran and Ren had no regard for closed, or even locked, doors. Still, the return to Tokyo felt like an alarm clock hanging over their heads, forcing them to wake up. They decided to make it the nice kind of awakening: the kind where the weather is cold and the blanket is thick, when one can stay in bed just a little while longer and listen to the rain tapping on the windows.

 

They went to Haru’s apartment first. It was dark and stuffy inside, the windows having been shut for two weeks. Makoto felt the happy bubble inside him deflating. He hasn’t been to Haru’s apartment for a few months now, and the packed-away minimalism of his boyfriend’s (boyfriend’s?!) apartment struck him anew, painful to behold. They always met outside, or at Makoto’s apartment, and it seemed as if Haru wanted to keep Makoto away from his own living quarters. There was no way Haru-chan was too lazy to unpack his belongings, Makoto thought, after more than a year in Tokyo. It was just not like him. There had to be another reason. Haru apparently sensed his unhappiness, and it earned him a gruff look.

"Haru...” Makoto began, bag still on shoulder. He couldn't even think of taking his shoes off, while Haru was already in his socks, putting his own luggage in the bedroom. Worried eyes trailed over a kitchen shelf with a single pan and two mugs, the Ayres Rock of the kotatsu in the empty living space, books neatly piled in a corner, the cardboard boxes that contained the first twenty years of the love of his life. _Why_?

Haru returned to the living room.

"Come to bed,” he said tersely, “I’m tired.” He retreated into the bedroom.

Makoto smiled at him, at the obvious assumption that Makoto will follow. Because they both slept so much better with the other’s warmth by their side, even at 3 P.M. like now. Because there was no need for words to say _I love that you’re with me_.

He indulged Haru and ambled to the bedroom. Efficient as always, the shorter boy was already in trunks, pulling a worn T-shirt over his head. Taking out bedsheets from the mostly-empty closet, he quickly remade the bed and climbed in, all this while Makoto was rummaging his own bag for clothes. Changing into his own pajamas (very aware of the curious blue eyes peering over the summer blanket’s edge), he lay next to Haru, whose arms slid under his neck and around his waist, making the taller boy the little spoon. He leaned into the touch.

"Haru...” the thought was heavy on his mind. He just couldn’t let it go. “Why haven’t you unpacked all the boxes yet?”

He felt Haru’s muscles tense, the arm around him pressing into his side. _All you ever do is meddle with everyone._ Then the tension relaxed, and a sigh susurrated through Makoto’s hair.

Haruka wanted to say that it wasn’t really home, that being alone in these tiny rooms was so different from being alone up the stone steps in the two-story house he grew up in, that packing those things away _hurt_ , all his life stuffed into a roomful of boxes, all because his parents wanted to rent out the house. Because _un_ packing will make Iwatobi stop being his home, and he couldn’t do it alone. As always when the thoughts flooded him, he couldn’t talk, burying his nose in the soft, brown locks instead. Makoto wriggled in his arms until they were facing each other, his smile kind, affectionate.

"Let’s do it together tomorrow, ‘kay, Haru-chan?”

"Drop the -chan.” He answered, snuggling closer.

Haru fell asleep so fast, he didn’t feel the soft press of the other boy’s lips on his forehead, nor heard his whispered prayer. _Sleep tight_.

 

It took four whole days. Haruka had swimming practices and Makoto had a shift at the hospital, but they worked in earnest the rest of the time. They unpacked towels, dishes and watercolors. They set up a bookcase, a desk and a tiny kitchen table with two chairs. Haru thought the house looked cluttered now. Makoto thought it looked cozy.

There was just one box left. Haru was placing some old albums on the new shelves, while Makoto folded the laundry from their trip on the bed, putting his own pile in his travel bag for when he leaves the next day. He was struggling with a sweatshirt that just _wouldn’t_ _stay put_ when Haru’s bare feet entered his line of sight.

"Here,” he said, his tone cool and collected as usual, but the eyes that looked determinedly at the wall betrayed him, “It’s five years too late.”

Makoto took the note from Haruka’s hands, unfolding it carefully, smiling at Haru’s bashfulness. The paper was worn around the edges, but the handwriting was clean and crisp, dark blue ink on a cream surface.

**Makoto**

**Thank you for staying.**

**Haruka**

Makoto saw the date on the note and his heart skipped a beat.

_Two huge suitcases on the doorstep, Haru hugging his father and then his mother, they apologize for leaving but leave anyway. It makes sense, Haru says, he’s used to being on his own, and he didn’t want to leave Iwatobi. It didn't make sense for his father to travel back every weekend, didn't make sense for his mother to be on her own all week. They should just move away and be together. He’ll be okay._

Makoto remembered waving goodbye to Haru’s parents, promising to take care of him. Remembered fifteen-year-old Haru going to take a bath, Makoto washing the dishes from dinner in the kitchen. When Haru emerged from the bath an hour later, a towel over his head, his eyes looked wrong. Not puffy or red, but there was a hairline crack in the porcelain exterior, a sadness so deep Makoto could not reach it. Just like that winter break during their first year of middle school. Makoto didn’t know the reason for it at the time, but he knows the reason now.

He remembered saying, “Maybe I’ll sleep over?”, remembered Haru nodding absently. They sat at Haru’s computer, playing some strategy game, and made mackerel grilled cheese sandwiches at 11PM for a second dinner because they could. He remembered barely sleeping that night. The creaks and groans of the empty house were scary in the darkness, and from his futon, Makoto could see Haru’s profile staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up for school the next day, Haru was back to his usual self.

_Thank you for staying._

_Always._

The word was not in the note, but it is in Haru’s gestures now, in the intense way he kissed Makoto, straddling his lap and pushing him back. He was undoing Makoto’s shirt at that lightning speed of his, fingers deft and pleasantly cold against his chest.

"Wait, Haru – I – the clothes!” He was lying on a pile of laundry and his brain made a pathetic attempt at caring. Haru ignored him and, after a moment's hesitation, Makoto ignored himself as well. They lay on the single bed, their feet hanging over the edge, and Haru’s body against his sent electric shocks up and down his stomach. His lips were becoming increasingly - blissfully - sore, and he rolled over Haru to get a better angle, pulling off the shorter boy’s shirt in the process. He saw his best friend shirtless plenty of times (hell, he saw him naked plenty of times, too) – but this new liberty of undressing Haru was intoxicating.

_Maybe letting go is the same as being free_ , Haru thought deliriously. He learned to trust Makoto during the last ten days. To trust him with more than his heart and more than his body. He learned how caring and perceptive he was, never doing anything that made Haru uncomfortable. Not pushing, _asking_ , with a look, a hesitant touch, a smile that twisted Haru’s stomach with joy and with thirst. He could feel his composure slipping though his fingers, water-like, and he didn’t attempt to hold on. His heart was racing, hot lips trailing the path from his navel to the waistband of his swimsuit. A short glimpse of the green eyes in his direction, _can I?_

Haruka nodded once, just barely, unable to speak. Too much. It was too much. As his swimsuit slid off, his thoughts were on fire. He loved it and hated it all in the same time. He needed water to calm down. No, not calm down, see clearly. Think clearly. Be entirely there, with the one person who was his harbor, whose shoulders were wide enough to carry all the burdens of the world and his hands kind enough to untangle them gently. He clasped Makoto’s hand in his own and kissed all five fingers, pulling him up so their faces were a breath away from each other. The zipper of Makoto’s pants was digging into his thigh but he did not to move, didn’t want to change how Makoto’s weight pressed against him completely: heavy, hard and perfect.

Their lips met once more, Haru fumbling with the belt. He savored the sensation of completely bare skin for a moment, before putting both hands on Makoto’s cheeks, holding him in place.

"I’m going to take a bath,” he announced, loud and clear this time. Makoto smiled at him understandingly, a hand caressing his side. Haru had repeatedly fled to confer with the water when he got too excited. It was just who he was. However, Makoto wasn’t ready for the next line. “You should come with me.”

The brunet’s face turned red in a most satisfying way.

 

Consequently, it would be a while before Makoto could enter Haru’s bathroom without blushing all over again.

 

The next day, drunk on each other, they went to the train station. Makoto had to go back to his own apartment, and Haru accompanied him to the platform. They kissed their goodbye on Haru’s genkan, knowing they could not do so outside, but the weather was lovely and Makoto looked so happy as they walked down the quiet boulevard, so Haru was content with saying goodbye for now. He wanted to visit the swimming pool anyway, and he hadn’t had mackerel for two whole days. Some time alone would be possibly tolerable.

There was a tiny park across the street from the station, and they stopped there so Makoto could put his bag on a bench and retie his left shoelace. As he bent down, Haru gazing longingly at the bird’s fountain in the corner while fantasizing on the pool, Makoto emitted a yelp of surprise. There, under a Kerria bush, two emerald feline eyes were regarding him wryly, their owner’s squashed dark face barely visible through the vegetation.

"Haru!” he whisper-yelled, “Look!”

Haru bent down next to him, his expression softening when he noticed their mistrustful companion.

"It’s the first time I saw one here,” he remarked quietly, hand slowly digging through his gym bag. Makoto was puzzled for a moment, but then donned a resigned, long-suffering look.

"Why do you have mackerel cans in your gym bag?!”

"I might get hungry after practice.”

Haru clicked the lid off and pushed the can forward, into the bush. The leaves quivered for a moment when a dark, triangular head emerged, snatched a piece of fish and retreated. Makoto laughed, delighted, and Haruka’s lips eased into a smile.

"I guess the cats here have reasons to be paranoid,” Makoto chuckled, and Haru silently agreed. It will take some time for this grizzled veteran to trust them. He will bring another can tomorrow evening, he thought, when he comes to pick Makoto up.

"Sometimes, Tokyo does feel a little like home.” Makoto said. His smile was so wide it made his eyes appear almost shut. Haru touched his fingers lightly against Makoto's larger hand, lingering for a few second before letting go. He stared at the cat gobbling down the canned mackerel.

"Yeah, it really does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I really really love MakoHaru, and I wish more people will rediscover this ship and write (and draw!) more and more wonderful MakoHaru pieces. Reading and writing about them really makes me happy, and I hope you enjoyed the result as well. They have such a great relationship in the show.  
> I want to thank my beta Vicki again, because she has been super helpful and patient with me and my weird way of phrasing things.  
> Also, I wonder how many of you noticed that English is not my first language?  
> As a matter of fact, it's not just my first time writing anything that is not Harry Potter related, it is also my first time writing fanfiction in English EVER. It has been hard, but since the fandom in my native language is nonexistent, I didn't have much of a choice :-) I hope it wasn't too obvious. I hope to keep having ideas for (shorter) MH fics in the future (I am already working on two, hope to publish soon) and again, thank you - so much - for reading. It has been fun.


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